Blood Brothers
by KMiran
Summary: Max and Logan tackle a missing persons case that turns into more than meets the eye.  Season one style, rated T for now, possible M later.
1. MIA

*Disclaimer* I do not own Dark Angel or any of the characters, they are the property of James Cameron. Any infringement is completely unintended.

This is my first fan fiction ever. I just recently started rewatching the series and couldn't stop thinking about all the possibilities! This is an homage to Max/Logan fans but also just a way for me to live out my weird/boring Dark Angel fantasies. Read and Review if you like!

Blood Brothers- part 1

The man chopped the bright colored onion with expert precision as soft music played in the background. As usual he was expecting a guest and so there was an extra flourish in his strokes. Logan Cale had known a lot of beautiful women in his life, a benefit of being raised in the most exclusive circles of Seattle's society scene, but somehow his guest effected him in a way that all of these women could not. That was why he had spent the majority of his afternoon working on a pork shoulder with a chipotle crust. Well there were other reasons... there was the simple thrill of cooking, one of the things Logan could continue to do with full independence, and the matter of the favor he needed. Chipotle crusted pork was the perfect bribe.

Logan took a look down at his outfit, checking again to make sure everything was in place. He was wearing a pair of charcoal grey slacks, and a simple white button up shirt, untucked with the sleeves rolled up. Nothing too fancy, but enough to convey the message that he meant business. His guest would probably show up in a pair of cargo pants and zippered sweater but she would still put him to shame. Hell, she could put him to shame in anything. Especially that tight, black catsuit she was so fond of...

He was wrapped up in his musings he didn't hear the front door ease open or the nearly silent footsteps that followed. In fact he didn't hear anything until, "Hey you." He whipped his head around to locate the source of the feminine purr while at the same time, bringing his sharp knife down on his thumb. She was leaning against the counter behind him, clad in her work clothes and a saucy grin.

"Ouch!" He cried, turning back to the cutting board. He had caught the side of his thumb with the knife and almost immediately a pool of blood was forming in the crevice. While he would normally reply with something borderline playful he simply replied, "Hey Max."

"Whoa, no use crying over chopped onions," the young woman said, coming toward him as he dropped the knife and wheeled one handed to the sink. It was a difficult process and so by the time he reached his destination Max had already turned the water on.

"I believe the expression is spilled milk," Logan informed her, sticking his thumb under the cold flow from the facet.

"Spilled milk is a shame but I don't ever remember milk making my eyes water," Max said with one of her deadly, sultry grins. "Speaking of, you got any in your digs?"

"Second shelf in the fridge," Logan replied, his brow furrowing as his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. His thumb was now beginning to sting and if the redness of the water collecting in the stainless steel sink was any indication, the bleeding was not slowing down.

"Excellent," Max declared, peeling away from the counter and walking over to the fridge. Since the pulse everything had become hard to come by, especially necessities like fresh milk. But Logan had his connection and since meeting the cat burglar and learning about her condition he had always made sure his fridge contained some sort of milk substance.

Max opened the fridge an immediately located the milk. While her first instinct was to drink it straight from the glass bottle she quickly thought better of it and fetched a glass from the cupboard, filling it to the brim with the cool liquid. She could thank Logan for the new found manners and with this thought she turned back to her friend. He was still at the sink, rinsing his cut and looking slightly perturbed. She couldn't help but notice the way his white shirt hugged his chest, built up from month in the chair. Not to mention the smooth lines of his forearms, bare from the elbow down. _Hot boy, huh? _ She couldn't help but think, running her roommate's nickname for Logan through her mind.

"You need a hand over there?" Max asked. She sauntered over before he had a chance to reply and placed her milk on the counter beside him. She disappeared for a moment and just as Logan was beginning to wonder where she had gone she returned with a band-aid in her hand. "Let me see." Feeling slightly ridiculous Logan backed away from the sink, jerking his right wheel so he could present Max with his hand. She was leaning against the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, so Logan's hand rested against her thigh. She took it in both of her hands, careful not to look at her friend. Logan was grateful for this as between her warm thigh and the nimble workings of her soft hands, outfitted in her cutoff bike gloves, a warm blush was beginning to form on his cheeks. She looked at his thumb, turning his hand side to side in a surprisingly gentle gesture before twisting and grabbing the band aid, tearing the paper open with her white teeth, and releasing his hand while she pulled it out of the wrapping. Logan allowed the side of his hand to rest against her leg, but was worried about bleeding all over her green cargos.

He shouldn't have been worried though because with inhuman speed Max had the band-aid freed and his thumb wrapped tight. Then, surprising both of them she ducked her head and brought his thumb to her lips so she could blow on it lightly, easing some of the pain. They looked eyes and for a moment neither of them could move. Her chocolate brown orbs were so dark, so welcoming, and Logan felt his eyes darkening to match. Then, spurred on by fear for his rapidly disappearing restraint he said, "So doc, what's the prognosis?"

Max looked at him, confused for a moment before she gave herself a mental shake and her muddy eyes were cleared. Now she looked at him with a mixture of amusement, curiosity and impatience. "My expert opinion? You'll live."

"That's a relief," Logan said, recovering with one of his simmering grins that always seemed to calm Max's shackles. "What do I owe you for the check up?"

"How about seconds of whatever you're cookin'?" Max said, breathing deeply and dropping his hand. He reclaimed it and looked at his thumb, judging her bandaging job to be near perfect. "Seriously Logan, it smells dangerously good."

"Thanks," he said, flattered by her enthused reaction. With the spell broken they moved away from each other, taking up their usual positions on opposite sides of the counter. While Logan returned to the chopping board, moving the bloody knife to the side Max scooped up her milk and sat on a stool across from him. "By the way, you feeling okay?" He motioned to the milk on the counter in front of her. She had already drinking almost the whole glass.

"Me? I'm right as rain. Just felt like this girl could use stronger bones," She said with a noncommittal shrug. Truth was she had been a little shaky earlier in the day and thought that a little natural dose of tryptophan wouldn't hurt. If Logan had caught the lie he certainly didn't act like it, but he did send her a soft look, the same one he sent her every time he was worried for her health, which had been a lot in recent months.

"If your bones were any stronger they would give diamonds a run for their money," Logan said with an amused snort. He finally finished slicing the onions and slid them onto a nearby plate.

"So what exactly are you cooking, and am I to assume it is the reason you paged me three times today before lunch?" Max asked. She finished off her milk and then pushed the glass away.

"Oh, you mean the three pages you didn't respond to?" Logan asked.

"Couldn't find a phone," Max shrugged. "Besides, thought I would drop by on my way how anyway and figured whatever it was could wait until then. Girls gotta have a life you know."

"Well I'm cooking a crusted pork shoulder with roasted vegetables on the side, and its part of the reason why I paged," Logan said, looking at her with pleading eyes that she had come to recognize and fear, mostly because she had a hard time saying no when he looked at her like that.

"Oh come on Logan, I just finished a job for you last night. I haven't even had time to shower and heal," Max groused, suddenly feeling foolish for fawning over his hand just moments ago. The man deserved to bleed a little.

"I know," Logan replied. "And you know I appreciate it, and wouldn't be asking for your help so quickly if it wasn't important."

"Well important or not, forget about it," Max told him, tossing her short, curly hair. "I need at least a few nights off if you insist on using my talents for another one of your crusades." She hadn't outright declined, and this gave Logan hope for a bargain.

"What if I promise you something else instead?" Logan asked.

"Like what?" Max replied, making it clear that a few nights off was not an easy thing to replace.

"Well, dinner tonight," He started.

"Nuh-uh, that is payment for your stellar medical treatment," She informed him, her dark eyes dancing with humor. "You're gonna have to up the ante."

"A full week of uninterrupted dinners," Logan offered.

"Are you sure you can promise that?" Max asked, quirking her eyebrow. Despite her response a whole week of uninterrupted dinners between her and Logan sounded... wonderful. They rarely had time together that wasn't tainted by work, news of her siblings, or some sort of unwanted social call.

"I keep my promises," Logan answered, responding to her feigned disinterest.

"Alright, I also want a bottle of oil for my baby," she said with business like brusqueness. She knew how difficult it was to locate oil with the state that the market was in. That was the reason for the challenge in her gaze as she surveyed her friend and employer.

"Done," Logan replied, smiling at her. He was actually surprised at how easy it was going to be to provide her requests. "In fact, wait here for just one minute." He rolled away, leaving Max alone with her empty glass and her thoughts. Her last mission hadn't really been _that_ bad she supposed. Although she did rip the sleeve on f her favorite red sweater, which was easy enough to fix but a pain none the less. Maybe, she thought to herself, she should have asked for a replacement sweater too. Although knowing Logan he would probably end up buying her he wrong size or color. Oil was better. Not only was it more necessary, but he would have a hell of a time finding a bottle.

But damn that pork whatever sure did smell good. With thoughts of the cook Max wandered over to the stove, opening it to take a deep breath. Inside was a simple casserole dish, covered and not revealing anything. Damn her boy could cook, Max mused, then mentally slapped herself. Logan wasn't _her_ boy. Just _a _boy. Not even really a boy but a man. Especially the way he was looking tonight with his scruffy beard and messy hair, and the shirt that hugged every angle... She nearly jumped when she heard him wheeling back into the kitchen and rushed back to her seat on the stool to avoid suspicion. He arrived with a grin on his face and a brown wrapped parcel in his lap. Max couldn't decide which was more exciting.

"You didn't tell me you figured out my birthday," Max said.

"I didn't. Although don't think I've given up the chase," Logan warned. He wheeled forward and deposited the parcel on the counter before moving back to survey her with a pleased look. "Open it." Max sent him a saucy look before pulling the package toward her. There was a small card taped to the front and so she ripped it off, pulling it out of the small yellow envelope.

"To my Angel," she read in a sarcastic tone that became increasingly soft. "Just a little thanks for all the help. Your hardheaded employer and friend, Logan. Wow, getting all soft on me already." In truth the card was touching and she wasn't sure how much further she should go. What if it ended up being lingerie, or worse yet some type of framed treasure? Even so she covertly pocketed the card, the crow in her wanting to collect every remnant she could of the man in front of her, and the times he treated her well.

"Just letting you know I'm not blind to the trials I put you through. Now don't make me tell you again, open it." Her curiosity reinvigorated, Max ripped at the brown paper wrapping. Inside was a simple cardboard box and she tore it open. Sifting through a few layers of tissue paper she can up with a bottle of motor oil. "I ran across it a few weeks ago and I was just waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you. I wish I had done it before you asked for it, to keep it a surprise, but this works just as well."

"Alright, its even the right kind," Max said with a grin. "How did you know I would be a sucker for oil?"

"Well I seem to remember how thrilled you were when someone else scrounged some up for you a few months ago and lets just say it stayed in the back of my mind," Logan said, his eyes narrowing into that inscrutable expression of his.

"Hmm? A few months? That was so long ago, I hardly remember," Max said nonchalantly. They both knew she was lying and that Logan's words conjured an image of the bumbling but sweet Eric. Another thing she could blame on her screwed up DNA... It had taken a lot of convincing but Logan had finally accepted that they had not been dating or anything else of that sort. Not that it mattered.

"Well now that we have that squared away let me get you the file for what I have been working on. So far it seems to be a simple missing persons case, but I can't shake the feeling that something bigger is going on-" Logan started, turning toward the living room.

"Logan!" Max cried. He slammed on his breaks and turned back to her. "One more condition. We eat and we do not make one mention of the great eyes only or his missions. I'll have you know I had a jam packed day at good ol' jam pony, and I expect you to listen to every word about it. Aiight?"

"I think I can manage that," Logan answered, sounding pained.

Half an hour later they were almost finished dinner. Max was sopping up the last bits of juice and tender meat with a stray piece of bread. All the while she was telling a story about her friends with more expression than Logan usually saw from her.

"So Sketchy is screaming at the top of his rotten lungs while O.C. practically drags his sorry ass through the street, yelling at him to give her package back," Max explained, pausing only to shove the bread in her mouth. "This goes on for a while, until I notice the new girl looking real guilty all of a sudden. While everyone else is watching the show she turns and pitches a package onto the roof of the run down apartment beside us. Doesn't take a genius to realize what was happening. So she turns back and looks at me, and I look at her..."

"Well what did you do? Did you help Sketchy?" Logan wanted to know.

"Oh hell no," Max declared, snorting. "That boy deserves the extra slaps even if he ain't guilty of the crime. Besides I've helped his ass out way too much. So her and I just look at each other and then I just shrug, letting her know I didn't see it if she didn't want me to."

"That's a little cruel, don't you think?" Logan asked, hopping off the stool into his chair before grabbing Max's plate and clearing the rest of the counter.

"Oh please. Sketchy got his, and the way I see it I made a new friend," Max explained with a shrug, sitting back as she rested her hand on her full stomach. The meal had been delicious and her content facial expression told Logan that. Well that and the fact that she had nearly been purring as they ate.

"What about O.C.'s package?" Logan asked, wheeling to the sink where he deposited the dishes in warm soapy water.

"I went back after the crowd moved on, made sure she got her signature and a hefty tip I slipped into her bag after," Max assured him. Logan looked at her in surprise before his expression settled into a grin. "I might as well use my powers for good right? That's what you're always tryin' to say."

"Something like that," he agreed. She picked up a dishtowel and joined him at his side where they fell into a companionable silence. She debated trading tasks with him, just so he wouldn't get his band-aid wet, but her hatred of pruny hands won out and she stuck to drying. Besides Logan wasn't complaining, in fact he looked positively elated as he passed her the soapy plates and glasses. Probably thinking of the file sitting on his desk, Max mused with a mental eye roll. In truth he was thinking of how lucky he was to have his friend standing next to him. It was such a domestic task, doing the dishes. He had never done it with Valerie as she insisted on using the dishwasher, a waste of water if Logan had ever known one. No, Max was the type to enjoy the simple put necessary task. It was one of those moments that he couldn't help but think of what the same activity would mean if he wasn't in the chair. A late dinner, good wine, intimate conversation if it weren't for the chair it could be one of the best dates he had ever had. But instead it was just a dinner. Business, even.

Once they were finished the dishes Max sent him a warm smile. It wasn't her usual cocky, toothy grin, but a small, unsure and tentative smile. It was the smile that had the potential to floor Logan. It was as if this gorgeous, ethereal creature was looking to him for some sort of approval. He grinned back like an idiot before breaking the gaze to wheel to the living room. She followed him, not even grumbling about his dedication to his work.

"So what do we got?" Max asked as soon as Logan pressed on his breaks and brought his computer screen to life. She leaned against the desk, her hip visible, but too far away to touch innocently. Without moving his gaze from the screen he passed her a manila file folder. In the process his hand brushed against the front of her thigh again, but they let it go.

"Pamela Trewitt. Grade five teacher, married ten years, mother of two," Logan started. Max flipped the folder open to see a snapshot of a pretty, older blond woman. She was sitting on the grass, two young boys wrapped in her arms as if they were wrestling but had paused to smile at the camera. Quaint, Max thought bitingly, but when her family wrestled there was no pausing for a flash. "She was last seen en route out of the city about a week ago. Her husband can't figure out what she was doing and if any of her friends did, they aren't talking."

"What kind of car does she drive?" Max asked, flipping through the file. She found the information and nodded slowly. Mid level, comfortable car, out of the range of an elementary school teacher but not exactly something that would attract a discerning car thief. "So you're thinking this isn't just a simple car jack?"

"That's the thing. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to think so I ran her details through a few databases and came up with six more hits in the last six months," Logan explained. He pulled up the other files and Max leaned over to examine the screen. All the profiles were different except for one thing, they were all last seen on their way out of Seattle never to be heard from again. "At first I wasn't sure we had anything at all to go on, but then I noticed two things. First of all, they all seem to be healthy if not in their prime. Second, two of the missing persons share the same doctor."

"You're really fixated on health lately aren't you?" Max demanded. "You sure you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," Logan snapped in an annoyed manner. "Not that your constant concern isn't appreciated." His tone suggested that it most definitely was not.

"Whatever," she tossed back. "So we got one link. You talk to this doctor man? Or is he another one of our famous Seattle low life's"

"I had an informant check him out and he came back clean," Logan shrugged. "He's a general practitioner, been working in Seattle since before the pulse and has never had so much as a parking ticket."

"Squeaky?" Max questioned.

"Squeaky," Logan confirmed with a sigh.

"Sometimes that's even more suspicious," Max argued.

"I've been running his name through every database I could think of and I haven't turned anything up yet. Doesn't mean I haven't given up on him," Logan informed her.

"So is Pamela one of the patients?" Max asked, turning her attention back to the file in her hand.

"Yep, according to her husband's testimony she was seeing him regularly. Seems they were trying to conceive again and were having a hard time of it. That was the husbands reason for contacting eyes only in the first place, he knew she wouldn't just run off if they were in the middle of in vitro," He sat back an surveyed Max. While she must have had some interesting views on people using the process she wasn't sharing them.

"Well if that's our only lead I'ma have to milk it," She said with a shrug. "Any chance you can get me an appointment with this guy?"

"Oh look, just our luck," Logan said, turning to his desk to open a drawer and then turning back to Max with a bundle of envelopes in his hand. "A Natalie Holtz has a one o'clock appointment tomorrow, and here are all of her papers, including proof of insurance."

"And what would you have done if I had turned down this job?" Max asked, sending him a knowing glare as she accepted the envelopes.

"Begged until you said yes, and if you still said no... well I haven't dressed in drag since college but I was told I made a very convincing woman," Logan said with a serious glint in his eye. Suddenly the image of Logan in a short pink dress popped into Max's mind and it was all she could do not to break down into tear filled laughter.

"I'll try to survive with that image in my mind," Max said, laughter making her voice lighter and bouncier. "Well if that is all your majesty, I'll be retiring to my hovel now."

"If you give me a minute I can drive you," Logan offered.

"It's aiight, I got my work bike leaning up against your hallway wall," Max replied. He sent her a disappointed look before quickly looking away. "Although if I'm going to look the part I suppose I'll need some nicer threads than this and I can't be biking through my hood and hope to get home dry."

"Go pick through your arsenal in the spare room and I'll get ready to go," Logan said with a smile. Max felt better about their plan as she entered the spare room and threw the closet door open. She figured potential mother would have to look clean cut but not too businessy... soft and maternal were never her thing but she figured she could figure them out. Finally she picked out a long flowing skirt and sleeveless white blouse. She might not know what it was like to be a mother, but by god she could look the part.


	2. No one likes the Doctor

**Disclaimer*** Again, I do not own Dark Angel or any of the characters. They are the property of James Cameron and any infringement is completely unintended.

* Author's Note: So far the response has been pretty great to this piece! I find that exciting and I can only hope that you guys continue to enjoy reading. Although as a warning, so far I have tried to stick to the Max/Logan cannon but it might be diverging as the story progresses. *

Doctor's office waiting room

Early afternoon

Max sat in the doctor's office feeling painfully out of place. Around her people were coughing and moaning while young children jumped all over their parents, demanding a reprieve from their maladies. Beside her a middle aged black woman was reading a novel with a breathless couple on the cover. Every now and then she would let out a sigh, and settle deeper into her chair. Sitting in her skirt and blouse Max could only look at the clock over the receptionist's head and frown. Her lunch hour was dwindling rapidly and she had already been waiting for thirty minutes. If the doctor wasn't ready until after one, why in the hell would he make an appointment with her for one? What kind of business was that_? Say what you wanted about Manticore, but at least they ran as an efficient business. _

With the thought of her home for the first half of her life, her face fell. It wasn't more than two decades ago that her mother was in the same situation that she was pretending to be in. Well not the exact same situation... Her mother had been a lot more desperate. Somehow that almost allowed her to forgive her for what she had done. One thing was sure, she would give up her last breath before she gave up a child she had carried herself.

Luckily she didn't have to worry about that for the time being. Her cycles only came on so often and even then she usually had the foresight to pump herself full of chemicals that would stop her from conceiving. Not that she didn't want to be a mother one day, but that was so far off it was hardly worth thinking of. The woman beside her slid her eyes from the book in front of her to look at Max. After doing a double take she looked at the cover of the book and then back at the young beauty yet again.

"Excuse me for sayin', but you look just like the girl in this book," she said in a sweet voice. Max turned to the woman, looked at the cover and fought not to roll her eyes. The resemblance was minimal but there.

"Wow, would you look at that," She said, feigning interest.

"It is the darndest thing!" The woman cried, letting out a soft laugh. "So what are you in here for honey?"

"My husband and I are trying to conceive and it just hasn't been happening," She supplied to maintain cover. She wanted to tell the woman to mind her own damn business, but it was a somewhat upscale clinic and she didn't want to blow it by coming off as lowly. Logan was supposed to join her, which would have made her more comfortable and also would have kept questions to a minimum as people tended to look the other way when they saw the chair. But then it sunk in for her that they would just assume that he was incapable of conceiving, something Max didn't even think was true. So when an informant had called in a huff, Max had told Logan that she could handle it on her own. So she allowed a tentative smile to stretch her lips and shrugged, "a friend of mine recently tried invitro and it worked on the second insemination for her."

"A young think like you? Oh dear you must not have been trying long enough," the woman said, sending her an appraising frown.

"Three years give or take," Max said with yet another shrug.

"Aw," the woman said with a sympathetic pat to Max's knee. "You know it must be all the chemicals you poor kids grew up with. I swear we've had so many hormones pumped into our food it's a wonder we aren't all superhuman."

"Right," Max said with a smile. "I guess some of us just weren't so lucky."

"I guess not," The woman agreed, gesturing down to her ankle which was wrapped in a white, fabric bandage. "I rolled my ankle stepping out of a cab into a pothole. Just you wait, it only gets harder as you age."

One of the receptionists stepped out into the waiting room and surveyed the woman who sat beside Max. "Miss Fairbanks? Dr. Cooper is ready for you now." With just a little pat and a 'good luck' the woman was off, limping toward the door beside the reception booth. Max frowned, wondering when the hell she was going to see the good doctor Knox. She took another look at the clock and it was now more than half past. Something was definitely up.

When the same receptionist was still standing in the waiting room and clearing her throat Max could have guessed why. "Excuse me everyone, but if you are waiting to see Dr. Knox I regret to inform you that he has actually gone home ill. Please, don't try to re-schedule, we will call you with your new appointments, and are really sorry for any inconvenience." As mass moans and yells broke out the girl ran back to the reception booth, hiding behind the thick plexiglass. While a few women, children in tow, moved to berate the receptionists Max took a look at the corner of the room where an older red headed woman was tinkering in the supply closet. While everyone was busy harassing the other two, Max would try her luck with the red head.

"Excuse me," she said, sliding in next to the woman. The nurse looked up at the x-5 with surprised brown eyes before she relaxed and turned back to her task.

"I'm sorry but you heard Jackie, we'll call you when a new appointment date opens up. I'm afraid there's nothing I can do for you," she said, arranging things quietly.

"Oh, I wasn't going to bother you about an appointment, I just wanted to ask what was wrong with Dr. Knox. Is it anything I should be concerned about?" She asked.

"Knox? I don't think so. The man is nearly eighty and he's still healthy as a horse. He probably had some indigestion and just didn't want to chance it," she said with a snort.

"Oh, okay," Max said with a smile.

"Are you a new patient?" The woman in white scrubs with blue polka dots asked, turning to Max with some interest. When she nodded, the receptionist asked, "Do you have your paperwork, miss..."

"Holtz, Natalie Holtz," the young woman replied. She dug into her purse and produced her paperwork. The red head read it quickly, making it clear that she had been doing her job for a long time. "You look really familiar. Did you used to work at the free clinic on the East side? I volunteered there a few months ago."

"No," she replied, her eyes not leaving the forms that Max had fudged earlier. "I've been here for eighteen months now. Before that I worked in Chicago. So Mrs. Holtz, you're trying to conceive?"

"Yes." Max said, acting a little embarrassed.

"Have you seen a specialist yet?" She asked.

"No. I was told I should see a family doctor for a reference first," Max explained, her brow drawing down, and her lips pouting.

"Well yes, usually you do," the receptionist replied. She took a look around, making sure no one was listening before leaning in and addressing Max in a conspiratorial whisper. "You seem like a sweet young girl, and I'd love to help. I'm not really supposed to do this, but I know this specialist who will see new patients without a referral."

"Here in Seattle?" Max asked.

"No. He works out of a small town to the South," the receptionist shrugged. "But if you really want it, you've gotta be willing to travel for it, right?" She reached into one of her pockets and produced a business card and a pen. On the back of the card she jotted a name and number. "His name is Doctor Mitchell. He's absolutely amazing. I'm Janie by the way."

"Well thank you Janie," Max gushed. "You have no idea how much this will help." She accepted the card and the paperwork she had filled out at the office, which would later be discarded in the nearest fire.

"Oh, anything to help a hopeful young couple. Besides, it just means a lighter work load for me right?" Janie said, sending Max a brilliant smile.

Logan's Apartment

An hour later

"A specialist?" Logan asked, looking down at the name and number on the card. His informant meeting had pretty much been a dud and so after spending the afternoon straightening ruffled feathers, he was excited to get back to a real lead.

"Yeah, just like that this woman gives me this card. Says she likes my face or some crock like that," Max said, hand on hip. "Who does that? I don't trust her that's for sure. Then again she was a red head, and I never trust red heads if I can help it."

Logan sent her a long look, knowing full well what she meant by the comment. Sometimes he forgot that Max was so young, and that she saw things in such simplistic light. Val had hurt Logan, and so she hated her- simple as that. He remembered when he thought of things in such black and white terms... now such thinking was reserved entirely for eyes-only situations.

"So a specialist outside the city? That seem fishy to you too?" Max asked, switching gears when she noticed the look on her friend's face.

"Not necessarily. After the pulse a lot of people moved out of the city. There were mass back to the land movements, not to mention the people who just wanted to avoid the looting. Any professional who wore his wealth on his sleeve was targeted. That meant a lot of doctors were getting back to wilderness permanently," Logan explained.

"Tactical Error if you ask me," Max snorted.

"How so?" Logan asked.

"Easier to blend in if you're in a big city. In small towns everyone knows your business, and they sure as hell know your bank account. Plus you can move around more in a city, go unnoticed. That's why me and mine all stick to the big centers," she said in a distracted manner. She didn't usually talk about her siblings, and so Logan was hanging on every word.

"Do you know that for sure?" He questioned.

"Sure as I am that you're sittin' in front of me. We had it beat into our heads, and I guarantee you, none of them forgot that," Max said, a frown tugging at her lips.

An awkward silence settled between them as Logan wondered if she would go on. "So this specialist... he pre-pulse like the rest of our movers?"

"Actually, it appears that he popped up just a little while after," Logan replied. "Could be that he changed his name, and went into hiding, but its hard to tell. Medical Liscencing doesn't quite work like it used to. I can probably find the district he first got his accredidation from, but other than that..."

"You'd think someone in his line of work would leave more of a paper trail," Max argued.

"You'd think so. But right after the pulse things kind of got fuzzy. If he was around before the systems went down, could be his files got lost. If he set up shop afterward, he could be working without a license."

"Isn't that a big no-no?" Max asked.

"Used to be," Logan said with a shrug. "Now people just want someone who can help them, and as long as it works, they don't care who it is." A tense silence settled between them as Max recalled the events that had transpired just a few weeks before with Doctor Vertes, and more chillingly the gun that had been left out on Logan's desk.

"So we gonna pay this guy a visit?" Max asked quietly.

"Looks like it," Logan confirmed, allowing his eyes to slide from the screen to take in Max's face. She looked annoyed, unsurprised, and somewhat... amused. "I could have everything prepared by Sunday morning. You up for it?"

"Are you kidding? Normal's been on my ass like crazy as is. How do you think he's going to react to another unexplained illness?" Max asked. "Or better yet, 'Hey Normal, I need time off so me and my fake hubby can make a baby'."

"I'll take care of that," Logan promised, the corner of his lips twitching into a lop sided grin. "All you have to do is pack for a week in the country side. Don't forget your long johns."

"Alright, alright. But we might just have to renegotiate our contract," she informed her friend. She looked at the clock in the corner of Logan's computer and let out a sigh. With another flick of her eyes she checked the face of her beeper. "Looks like I gotta bounce."

"Oh, do you have plans tonight?" Logan asked, his countenance turning almost stony. Quickly he turned away from her and pulled up a few files on his computer, pretending to read them non-chalantly while really his mind was focused on whoever was communicating with max via silent beeper.

"Nothing big. Just have people to see, places to be. A few of the guys are hitting up Crash and I'm gonna join 'em. There's some fresh meat hazing goin' on, and that is always a treat," Max said with a feral grin.

"Oh, so its not like a date or something?" Logan asked, again feigning disinterest.

"Date?" Max demanded with a snort. "When in the world would I have time to date? Delivering messages by day and saving the world by night, not to mention our afternoon pow wows... I'm all booked up. Although there is a really cute newbie who's been givin' me the eye lately..." she gazed at Logan from the corner of her eye to gauge his reaction, but was disappointed when his only answer was a slight narrowing of his eyes. "...Then again, I have always thought it dumb to mix business with pleasure."

"Right, keeping it professional is good," Logan replied, his voice somewhat tight. He sent her a quick glance before letting out an almost silent sigh. "So O.C. and Sketchy going to be there tonight?"

"No doubt. You should come with," Max said in a soft voice, as if the thought had just occurred to her, although in reality she had been thinking it since O.C. had mentioned the bonanza the night before.

"I wouldn't want to cramp your style," Logan told her.

"Style? What part of watered down beer, drunk ass people and dumb ass bike stunts sounds stylish?" Max demanded. "If anything you'll add a little class and dignity to that place."

"Max, I have a lot of work today before we pull this job off. I should probably contact some people and get some things worked out tonight. Although the evening does sound absolutely lovely," Logan said with wide eyes.

"Whatever," Max replied with a shrug. "Page me if you change your mind."

"Will do. Tell Cindy I say hi," Logan called, as Max walked toward the door. She was around the corner and out of his view in no time. Hearing her at the door Logan yelled, "And Max?"

"What?" Her voiced replied.

"Haze the hell out of them!" He cried, surprising his friend.


	3. Friends and Shadows

**Disclaimer**: The usual, I do not own Dark Angel or any of its characters. This is purely a work of fantasy and no infringement is intended.

*A.N. Took me so long to post this, and this chapter is much shorter than I intended... but here it is! Hopefully it's still enjoyable! Just a quick refresher, Jenna is the courier who Max covered for the day before. I don't why, but I felt like this would create an interesting dynamic between Max and Cindy.*

CRASH

10:30 p.m.

Max and Cindy were sitting in one of their usual tables, already through a pitcher. Around them the Jam Pony crew was enjoying their night, bitching about Normal, and subjecting their new members to less than friendly tasks and tribulations. Taking a look at the bar, Max decided she was going on another run.

"This rounds on me," she told her friend. "What are you thinking? The usual? Or... the watered down usual?"

"How about a bottle of 1996 Dom perignon?" Cindy asked.

"The usual it is," her friend replied. They laughed softly and Max peeled away, making her way through the crowd with plastic pitcher in hand, only stopping at the bar. "One more of your house special barkeep," she declared, handing the jug over to the well built man. He smiled at her and moved down the bar to fill her order.

As she waited she noticed someone move in beside her. Her body reacted instinctually as her muscles tightened and her hand under the bar balled into a fist. She told herself to calm down, and slowly turned her head to look at the new comer. It was just the rookie that she had been telling Logan about earlier. Jen or something like that...

"Hey," she squeaked out, looking at Max with a timid grin.

"Hey," Max replied, sending the other girl a guarded glance. It wasn't that Max didn't like other women. Hell, she got along with Kendra and O.C, just fine. She just wasn't sure how to talk to women like the one standing in front of her. She was all blonde and perky, and just so happy to exist. It was sickening.

"You're Max right? I'm Jenna, we met at work earlier," she informed the darker girl. She smoothed down her denim crop top nervously before continuing, "so do you come here often?"

"You could say that," Max replied. She took a long look at the blonde girl and only then realized how pretty she really was. She was short but leggy and was wearing an outfit that flattered her minimal curves. More than that, she was showcasing it. She wouldn't last long, Max thought to herself...

"This is the first time I've been here," she divulged. "It's nice though."

Nice? Max thought, with a sick grin. Sure, that was a word for it.

"Are you here by yourself?" Jenna asked, barely taking a breath between her words.

"I guess so," Max said with a shrug, "Unless you include my girl Cindy."

"Cindy... she was the one who beat up Sketchy?" The blonde demanded.

"That's her," Max confirmed with a grin.

"She's very pretty..." Jenna said, her voice faltering.

"Yeah, I guess she is..." Max responded, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. Just then the bar tender returned with her full jug and she slapped the money on the counter, giving him a generous tip for interrupting their painful conversation.

"Thanks," he said, sending her a grin.

"Well gotta drink while the beer's still cold," She declared in a cheery voice. "Later." With this she was off through the crowd, purposely attempting to shake Jenna off, and leave the awkwardness in her wake.

Once she was seated by her friend again she glanced at Jenna, who was with a few of the other rookies, looking decidedly less bubbly. "What's your read on this Jenna girl?"

"You mean the blond, leggy diva? She a'ight," O.C. responded, searching out the girl in the crowd so she could give her a once over or two. "Why you ask?"

"Just wondering where you thought she was radar wise," Max explained. "Cause I'm thinking she plays for the all girls team."

"If so, that just made my night," her friend replied with a sigh. Max laughed and then they fell into a companionable silence. While O.C. tracked the blond's movements, Max's mind was somewhere else... While she knew the trip with Logan was bound do be a disaster, she couldn't wait. Getting out of the city, in the fresh air was always a sought after endevour. Hell, if gas prices weren't on the hike she'd going roadtrippin' every weekend she had off.

"Where would one find long johns in this city?" Max said, thinking aloud.

"Excuse you Boo?" O.C. replied, her attention pulled from the hunt.

"You know, long johns. Those really uncomfortable long pants people where in cold climates..." Max said, pulling a sour face.

"I know what they are, what the hell you need 'em for is another matter," Cindy said, sending her friend a curious look. "Don't even try to tell me you're takin' up campin' or some shit."

"It's not even like that," Max said with a grin, looking down into her beer. Then she shrugged, "I'm doin' a favour for Logan is all and thought I might need them."

"What kinda favor?" O.C. asked, surveying Max with a heavy look. She hadn't really liked Logan at first. But she knew now that he was a good guy, with a good heart, and he really cared about her boo. Even though Logan had helped saved both their lives more than once, she couldn't help but think of him as a playa playa. He was a man after all.

"Just a short trip," Max said evasively. She took a sip of her beer and then looked toward the bar where the hazing continued. "Nothing big."

"Right," Original Cindy said with narrowed eyes. "How _is_ hot boy doin'?"

"Oh, you know Logan, everyday is a fight for the righteous and downtrodden in the world." Max replied, rolling her eyes. While she feigned disdain, her friend wasn't convinced. The softening of Max's eyes and the twitching in the corner of her mouth whenever she talked about Logan and his crusades betrayed just how much she admired her friend.

"What about you two? You cool?" O.C. demanded.

"I think so. I don't know... its so hard to tell with Logan," Max said, letting out a sigh. "It's like there's always this screen between us, but lately its just been getting thicker, no matter how many times I try to take it down. But I suppose it's never simple with men and their stupid pride."

"Ain't that the truth," O.C. said, nodding sagely. Next she turned in her chair and motioned to Sketchy who was pitching his bike onto the bar. "Take that foo' over there. Now he knows he gonna fall on his thick skull every time he get up there. But does that stop him? No! He still gets up there, tryin' to prove to every sista in the house that he all that."

"Sketchy is hardly a good example... for anything," Max replied, watching as he inevitably crashed to the bar floor, clearing a circle of spectators in the process.

"I'm just sayin' your man is still that, a man. It's gonna take time before he gets over his pride," O.C. explained.

"I'm not asking him to, " Max replied, rearranging herself in her seat. "It's not like he owes me anything. And he's not my man, we're not like that."

"There you go again, lying straight to your own face," Her friend said, shaking her head slowly. "You ever ask him what he think about that?"

"No, and I never will," Max replied forcefully. "Can we just get off this subject now? Not everything in my life revolves around Logan Cale."

"You right," Cindy said, nodding. "So how that thing goin' with the big men and black helicopters? They still on your ass?" Max sent her friend a long look before sighing into her beer.

"Nothing I can't handle..." Max said, threading her arms into her jacket that was hanging on the back of her chair. Just then Herbal and Sketchy descended upon their table, Sketchy nearly falling into his chair. Without a word Max slid her half full beer toward Sketchy and he accepted it with a nod.

"Where are you going?" O.C. asked pointedly.

"I'm gonna bounce. It's been a long day and I think I just need some air," Max said, shrugging as she zipped her jacket.

"But they're just about to unleash the new guys, fully make-uped, and brassiered," Sketchy informed her, leaning forward and holding his hands in front of his chest, as if he himself were wearing one.

"I will never understand the male obsession with dressing like a woman!" Max declared, with a shake to her head. "You guys enjoy. I'll see you later tonight," she said to her roommate in a small voice.

"Late," O.C. responded.

"What's up with her?" Sketchy asked.

"She has some thinkin' to do," Cindy told him.

"An acourse you don't make it easy on her," Herbal pointed out.

"One way or another, she has got to face her demons. So what if I give her a little shove? What do you think sisters are for?" Cindy demanded.

SEATTLE CITY STREETS  
11:55 pm

Max knew that Cindy hadn't meant to alienate her. Hell, she was just trying to show that she worried. But sometimes it just reminded Max about how much of a freakshow her life was. Normal girls could sit in a bar, shoot the shit and not leave feeling like they were hoarding some big bad secret. On the bright side, she thought as she sped down a curving side street, it meant more alone time for her, and her motorcycle.

And there were few things in life she loved more than her motorcycle.


	4. Diner pie

JAM PONY

2:00 P.M.

Max slid to a stop on her bike before dismounting and walking her bike into the building, only to lean against a nearby railing. The morning had already flown by and all she really wanted to do was make sure she was ready for the upcoming trip. She knew Logan was usually good at taking care of things, but she hadn't talked to him since the night before, and she knew she had to clear her time off with Normal if she was going to have a job waiting for her upon her return. She didn't particularly like her job, or her hard ass employer, but it was easier than looking for something new. Not to mention since she had slowed down on the thieving, a steady pay cheque had become more important.

She searched the milling crowd for Normal, clipboard in hand. But when it appeared he was nowhere near his counter she let out a sigh and returned it to her messenger bag. Maybe she'd take a break in front of the tube. Nothing would get his attention faster, she thought with a grin. Unfortunately someone she wasn't looking for chose that moment to pop up in a nervous bid for her attention.

"Hey," A familiar blond squeaked, excitedly.

"Jenna," Max said, with a forced smile that came off as more of a grimace than anything. Could the girl not take a hint? Still, she felt for her, and softened her annoyance with a quick assurance that she wasn't completely heartless. "How've your runs been?"

"Alright," Jenna responded, and for the first time her grin fell. Kind of. "I've been having a hard time finding my way around," she admitted.

"Takes time," Max told her with a shrug, heading back to her bike. Package or no, she was going for a ride to clear her head. And to shake her newfound shadow.

"I know," Jenna giggled, following her closely. "But what I really need is for someone to show me around, you know, teach me the shortcuts. You know the neighborhoods well, do you think you could show me?"

"No can do. I have a full schedule," Max responded, slinging her bag over her shoulder and grasping the handles of her bike. "Sketch's been salivating since the minute you walked through the door. If you asked him I'm sure you could even get a free lunch out of it."

"But Max, I really wanted you to show me around," Jenna begged. She sent her a pouting look but before she could say anything else their boss appeared in front of them, causing them both to draw up short, and exacerbating Max's tense posture.

"Don't take it to heart little missy, every one of these degenerates is just like the other," Normal said, stopping in front of them and throwing each of them a package.

"Normal, just the man I was looking for," Max said with fake kindness, as she leaned her bike against her hip and caught the perfectly square, paper wrapped package. "Listen I might have some family stuff coming up, so if I don't show up for the next few days..."

"Save it," Normal said, cutting her off and pulling a frown from her. "Your friend Logan was already in here singing me a different tune. As long as I meet my overhead and you're not trying to weasel any sick time, I don't give two licks what you two do for the next week."

"Oh," Max said, surprised that Logan really had taken care of it. "When did he do that?"

"Early this morning, probably while you were still in bed. Used to be that people got up with the sun and didn't sleep until it was down again. I'll say this about your friend, he might keep questionable company, but at least he understands a good work ethic and sleeping schedule. Just one week though! If you're not back here bright and early Monday morning you're looking for another job." He informed her. "Bip, bip!" With this he was off to harass another group of hard working messengers.

"Thanks!" Max cried after him, so unsettled by how easy it had been that she didn't even roll her eyes when he called her questionable company. She slid the package into her bag and then looked up to see Jenna staring at her expectantly. "What?"

"Is Logan your boyfriend?" She asked.

"No, just a friend," Max replied in an exasperated voice.

"So you don't have a boyfriend then?" Jenna asked, perking up a bit.

"Cindy!" Max yelled in a panic, before turning to see her friend over her shoulder, staring at her with a crooked eyebrow. Probably thinks I should use my indoor voice, Max thought, well tough luck.

"What'chou want boo?" Was her reply, as she sauntered toward them.

"Jenna here needs someone who isn't a mindless dog to show her around town. You got time?" Max asked, gripping the handlebars of her bicycle so tightly her knuckles were white. Cindy knew she meant business.

"Nothin' but," O.C. assured them, after taking a long look at the young, perky girl. Jenna responded with a timid smile before watching Max with a long, plaintive look as the brunette headed for the door.

FOGLE TOWERS  
5:30 p.m.

Logan turned from the counter, a glass of water in his hand and a phone leaning against his shoulder. On the other end of the line Bling was shouting a reply to a difficult gas merchant.

"Bling, Bling!" Logan cried, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"I'm sorry Logan," his friend and trainer's voice crackled, as he returned his attention to his cell. "I've been planning this trip for weeks. I just can't cancel it."

"I understand, but that doesn't change the fact that my equipment, and my entire informant net with it, will be sitting in my apartment completely unprotected for a whole week," Logan reminded him. Normally he wouldn't ask so much of his trainer, but Bling had known when he signed on that this was more than a normal job. On top of that Logan had come to trust him more than anyone. Well... almost. With this thought an unbidden image of Max flashed in his minds eye, decided to take up temporary residence.

"Is there no one else you can think of?" Bling asked him.

"Just you and Max, and I was kind of hoping she would come with me," Logan explained. Seeing where this was going, and not wanting to waste Bling's time, he let out a sigh. "I'm sorry to bother you with this Bling. You should enjoy your vacation."

"If you're sure..." Bling started, his voice going soft.

"I am," Logan replied, still not sounding quite convincing enough. He heard his door open and close and then the shout of a familiar voice. "Listen Bling, I gotta go. Bye."

"Bye..." Bling offered as his friend hung up the phone. Logan placed the headset on his knee, and chugged his water, before putting the glass on the counter. He needed to be prepared if he was going to break it to Max that their plans might be on hold. More than that he was going to have to tell a man that he might not be able to find his wife, not if he couldn't find someone to rely on in a pinch.

"Logan? You in here?" Max called, coming around the corner. When she saw him, in his gray t-shirt and track pants, and with a head of flyaway hair She couldn't help but smile. He clearly hadn't showered since his last workout, and his glasses were somewhat askew on his face. Sometimes the man could be so... endearing. His endearing, boyishness was only accentuated by the expression of shock and guilt that she was treated to, as if he had just been caught with his hand in a jar it shouldn't have been in. "You look flustered. What's up with you?"

"What? Nothing," Logan replied quickly. In truth he had just realized that he was still in his work out clothes. Even though he had done a solo work out, mostly just high rep, low weight, sets for his arms and shoulders, he had still worked up a sweat. A sweat that was currently clinging to his shirt, and making his hair stick up at a ridiculous angle. Max was sending him a warm grin, that was almost patronizing in its softness and so he responded with an even glare as he habitually fiddled with his glasses.

"If you say so," was her response. "So I have to say, finding long johns in this city is really hard." With this she sauntered over to the island, reaching into his fruit bowl to rummage through and pick out the perfectly ripe green apple. Once she had made her choice she smiled at it, sighed, and placed her lips against it in a kiss. Then with a feral intensity she sunk her small, white teeth into its flesh and bit off a large chunk.

"I'm starving," she sighed, chewing loudly and making small sounds of contentment. Logan was distracted by her proximity, and the thought that she might be able to smell him in all of his fettered, non-glory. This was why when he finally admitted what was bugging him, it came out sounding less than important.

"Well you might not need them anyway," He informed his friend. "I had forgotten that Bling was taking a vacation this week. Normally he's my safe guard for the network, just in case someone needs to be here in person. With him out of town..."

"Hmm." Max responded, still devouring the apple. "You just need someone to be here? To take directions in case a big baddy finally gets his hands on you... again? That should be Simple enough."

"You're forgetting the part where than person needs to be trustworthy," He replied, as if she were crazy. His outrage was subdued though, as he watched her lick the juice from the apple off of her thick, pouty lips. It was hard to argue with that. He gave himself a mental headshake before continuing, "Can't exactly hire someone to water your plants and guard your top secret informant net out of the classifieds."

"No need," His friend responded, rolling her dark eyes. "I'm sure Original Cindy would be more than happy to."

"Cindy?" Logan asked simply.

"There's hardly anyone I trust more than my girl," Max confirmed. "Besides, you wouldn't even have to pay her. She'd do backflips for the chance to spend a week in a crib with hot water that you don't have to hook up yourself, and a doorman that isn't charging for entry and calling himself big pops."

"You might be on to something..." Logan admitted, amused by her description of her apartment. Sure it wasn't a great place, but never had he seen a man named big pops milling about out front.

"If you're worried about your secret identity, don't be. I'm pretty sure she's figured it out by now," Max snorted, as if the alternative was beyond ridiculous. "But If you're still worried, don't say anything until one of your admirers gets his hands on you. If it even happens. It's a big if, especially with me watching your back."

"It might be the only way we can still track this lead, and the only chance Pamela Trewitt has," Logan said to himself, distractedly bouncing the headset of his phone against his knee. Max watched it, but said nothing. "And you think we can trust her?"

"If I actually thought you were asking that, I'd slap you upside the head!" His friend declared, sending him an angry pout. "But given the givens, I think she's just the woman we're looking for."

"I'll call her tonight," He promised, grinning slightly at Max.

"So what about my long johns?" She asked, grinning back.

"Lucky for you, I have a stash of old camping gear in storage," Logan replied. "Although I doubt you'll even need them. We're supposed to get unseasonably good weather, but I'll get it out of storage tomorrow morning anyway, and we'll leave around noon. Sound good?"

"Fine," she assured him. "In the meantime, you think you got enough groceries to feed a girl?"

"There's some leftovers in the fridge," He responded. "Maybe not enough to feed _you_ though..." He fought the urge to duck as she glared at him hotly.

"Just for that, I'm not sharing them," she decided. She breezed past him and stuck her head in the fridge, a low growl building in her throat to match the gargling of her empty stomach.

"Fine by me," was Logan's response, watching what was visible of her body closely. "Help yourself. I think I'm going to uh... maybe jump in the shower."

"Good idea," Max replied, sticking her head out, Tupperware containers in hand. "I didn't wanna say anything, but you kind of stink."

SUNDAY  
FOGLE TOWERS  
11:20 AM

True to form Cindy had enthusiastically volunteered her services as a house sitter. While Logan still did not fully like the idea, he knew that their options were limited. More than that, he knew it meant a lot to Max that her friend be the one that they relied on this time. And so Logan had let Cindy into his apartment at eleven, her overstuffed duffel bag in tow, and he had given her the grand tour. She tried to appear jaded and uninterested, after all she had been to his apartment before, but there was an excited glint in her eye that betrayed her.

"So that's where everything is," Logan finished, as they returned to the kitchen where they had started. "You can set up whenever you feel like it in the guest room and if you need to get a hold of either of us, I left a list of emergency numbers on the fridge. Just try not to contact us unless you really need to."

"Emergency, I got it," O.C. responded, rolling her eyes. Already feeling at home she opened the fridge and took a look inside. She had never seen so much food in her life, and immediately she thanked whatever forces had brought Max into her life, dragging Logan along in the process. "Damn you eat well."

"Hypocrisy of the system," Logan replied with a cold grin. The fridge door closed and O.C. sent the seated man a measuring look. Before the awkward air thickened the front door slammed shut and Max appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"If it isn't my two favorite peeps," she said in an uncharacteristically cheerful voice. "Logan give you the grand tour?"

"Your boy took care of just fine," O.C. responded. "Gotta thank you guys again for lettin' Original Cindy crash here while you're out doin' that 'favor'."

"Well someone has to hold down the fort, and with Bling out of town, we figured you were the only other person we could rely on," Logan said seriously. "Max trusts you after all. And that's a pretty big seal of approval." Max sent Cindy a warm smile, nodding at Logan's words.

"Plus," Max added, "You gotta have somewhere to wine and dine your newest lady love."

"Would this be miss blond, all legs Jenna we are discussin'?" O.C. demanded, pronouncing her words with purposeful precision.

"Don't tell me my radar was all off," Max responded, frowning at the sour expression on her friend's face.

"Oh, its on alright, but the needle is pointin' in the wrong direction. If that girl were any more into you, she'd be attached to your backside," Cindy replied.

"Me?" Max sputtered, although she was not that surprised.

"Talked about nothing but the whole day," Cindy sighed. "Tried to move her off it, but damn is that girl smitten. Its such a shame too, 'cause there ain't anything more beautiful than a smitten female."

"She'll get over me," Max said with a snort. "In fact a few days with me gone, and you dressin' to impress? She'll be a goner."  
"Wait a second," Logan said, cutting in. "Who is Jenna?" The two women looked at him, almost having forgotten that he was there.

"Only the finest heifer that Seattle's south side has to offer," Cindy informed him. "She just started riding with us this week, and she's developed a little bit of a crush on our Maxie."

"Oh really?" Logan said, letting out a sound of interest. His eyes glossed over and a grin spread across his face as he considered the implications.

"Oh gross, don't guy out on me," Max cried.

"What? What did I say?" Logan demanded, snapping back to the present.

"Your drool said it all," Max said, rolling her eyes. Although she feigned disgust the goofy grin on his lips, and the pink tinge to his cheeks had warmed her chest just a little. She barely got to see into that side of Logan, the one that was playful and physical. Especially not directed at her... stomping on that idea, she turned back to her friend. "So you good if we take off now?"

"Never better," O.C. replied. "There is a bathtub in the guest room with Original Cindy's name on it."

Logan and Max finished loading the Aztec and then peeled out of the parking garage, heading out of the city with a mood of general excitement. In fact the atmosphere in the car was so upbeat that Max had to remind herself they were on a mission, not a vacation. Once she had repeated that to herself enough times, the reality sunk in and she found herself being just a little less warm to Logan. This was business, not pleasure after all.

"So have you heard anything else on this doctor, or our target for retrieval?" Max asked to fill the silence, which was punctuated only by soft music.

"Nothing new," Logan divulged, with a sigh. "All I know is Pamela has been missing for more than seventy-two hours. Usually that means the chances of finding someone are slim to nil."

"Well the least we can do is bring her back to her family, even if it is too late. After all its better to know, even if the knowledge is heavy, than to always be left wondering about what happened to someone you love," Max said in a voice that sounded much older than her nineteen years. "She deserves to be buried with them, away from the badness." She looked out the window to hide the emotion in her eyes. While she and Logan had shared a lot in the last few months, she knew there were just some things she wasn't ready to share.

"I can't disagree with that," Logan commented. "But we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it." They passed the rest of the trip in relative silence as Logan kept his eyes on the road and Max busied herself with an old magazine. After about half an hour she grew tired with it though and switched over to reading a ragged copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude that Logan had left in the Aztec. He said it was left in the car from his last doctor's appointment, but Max had a suspicion that he had intended to take a few actual hours of vacation on their trip.

She was nearly half way through when Logan stopped at a roadside diner and killed the engine. "Huh?" Max asked, still bogged down in Marquez's world. "We're stopped."

"Your stomach's been growling," Logan pointed out. "I thought you might want to stop for a bite to eat."

"Alright. I'll finish this chapter and meet you in there," She said, dismissing him and returning to the book. Logan wanted to laugh, but also did not want to disturb her interest in one of his favorite books. So he quietly went about transferring out of the Aztec, and wheeling across the gravel, into the shabby looking roadside diner. He nodded to the waitress behind the counter as soon as he entered, and scanned the premises for a place to sit that would accommodate his chair. He found a table with just one chair and quickly rolled toward it. He noted a few older men watching him, and figured they were probably regulars who didn't get many new people in their neck of the woods. Let alone wheelchair bound ones.

As soon as he was settled in the young woman in a long blue dress and white apron appeared in front of him with a glass of water. "Hi there sugar, you eating by yourself today? 'cause that is just a crying shame."

"I have a friend joining me shortly," he assured her with a wry grin. "We'll start with two coffee, and what else would you recommend?"

"Well not to toot my own horn, but we make about the best rhubarb pie you have ever had," she informed him, twirling a brown lock around the pen she had earlier been tapping against her pad of paper. "It's my own recipe."

"I can never pass up rhubarb pie," he said with smile, to which she laughed. "We'll have a slice with two forks. And a few menus."

"Coming right up sir," she said, smiling at him before biting her lip.

"Thank you..." He read her nametag, "Leanne."

"You can call me Lea," she purred before disappearing behind the counter once more. Logan took a look at the men who were sitting at the counter, but they had lost interest in him and were once again engrossed in their oversized breakfasts and newspapers. With that in mind he took a look out the front window but all he could make out through the blinds was a vague outline of the Aztec and the woman in the front seat.

Before long Lea was back and two mugs were on the table. She poured coffee into both from a craft, and then disappeared again only to return with a piece of pie, two forks, and two menus.

"Thank you," Logan told her, admitting to himself that the pie did look spectacular. "You must not get a lot of people coming through these parts."

"You'd be surprised," Lea said with a small snort. "A lot of people pass through here. Mind you its usually just one way."

"What about this woman?" Logan asked, pulling out a picture of Pamela. This one was just a headshot, not featuring her two sons. "She come through here?"

"Hard to say... she a friend of yours? ... Or a Wife?" Lea asked.

"No," Logan laughed. "I'm single."

"Well in that case," the waitress said, perking up. She took a closer look at the photo and frowned. "She does look familiar. She was driving a silver car, I think. Was in here about four, five days ago. Headed away from the city."

"Any idea where?" Logan asked.

"Not a clue. But she did say something about a doctor. You know most people who travel alone are excited to talk to just about anyone who'll listen. That, and I do have a gift with words," Lea supplied. When she saw that Logan was not going to indulge her, she let out a barely audible sigh. "Sorry I wasn't more helpful. So, you a cop or something sugar?"

"Journalist," Logan supplied, slipping the picture of Pamela back into his jacket. "But this one is more of a personal favor than a story. I just want to figure out what happened to her."

"Well I hope you do," Lea responded emphatically. "Now you take a look at the menu and once your friend joins us, I'll be back over to take your order."

As if on cue the bell above the door rang and Max sauntered in, book in hand. She scoped out the room, registering all of the exits and sizing up its occupants. Then with a breeziness that was entirely contrived she sped over to Logan, pulling the chair out and flopping down into a sprawled position. She set the book on the table between them and immediately reached for her coffee, stirring a packet of sugar into it and tasting the spoon before taking her first sip.

"Pie?" She asked.

"Communal pie," Logan responded. Without another moment's hesitation Max picked up one of the forks and delved in. She let out a contented sigh and sent Logan a curious glare.

"If you want any of this, you better start shoveling," she warned. With that he smiled at her and picked up the second fork, scooping up a piece that was some crust but contained mostly rhubarb and one very red strawberry. He popped it in his mouth and immediately the flavors burst across his tongue.

"Do you want to look at the menu?" He asked his friend.

"Nah, I'll knock back whatever you order me," Max assured him. Leanne came out from behind the corner, paper and pen in hand and leveled her gaze on Max.

"What can I get you?" She asked, some of the sweetness having dried in her voice. Logan cleared his threat and she looked back at him.

"I'll have the club sandwich, soup instead of fries," Logan started.

"Get fries, I'll eat them," Max told him absently.

"Soup," he reiterated, looking down to see that she had already finished the pie. "She'll have a double cheeseburger platter with fries. And another slice of pie to go. You were right, it is the best rhubarb pie I have had in a long time."

"I don't lie," Leanne assured him with a large smile. "I'll be right back with your order, you just sit tight sugar."

Max nearly choked on the sip of coffee she had taken as the middle aged brunette bounced away. When Logan glared at her and asked what she found so funny she rolled her eyes. "Apparently all I have to do to stay on your good side is follow everything with sugar."

"You and cute nick names don't seem to mix to me," Logan admitted.

"Right..." she drawled. "Because soldiers can't be cute."

"No, soldiers can be cute," he disagreed. "Downright cuddly even."

"Right..." Max drawled, rolling her eyes.

"Got some news on Pamela," Logan informed her, mostly to change the subject. This piqued her interest, and she leaned toward him. "The waitress says she's pretty sure she saw her pass through her a few days ago, talking about a doctor she was intent on seeing. "

"Well we know she made it this far at least," she acknowledged.

"The more I think about it, the weirder it seems," Logan said. "If there is a connection between this case and the other missing persons... what is it? After all a few of the other cases were single men. Can't see them going to see a fertility specialist."

"Guess we'll find out when we get to this town," Max responded. "So... this book. Does it have a happy ending?"

"Depends how you look at it. Why?" her friend asked, amused.

"I just wanna know if there's a point in me reading it is all," she said with a shrug. Despite her effort to appear disinterested Logan could tell she had become absorbed in the book by the way her fingers danced along the cover distractedly.

"What if I said no?" He wanted to know.

"I just don't see the point in reading about misery when there's so much of it in real life," she responded.

"Maybe its to understand the things that keep is going, despite the misery," He suggested.

"Maybe," Max commented, chewing on his words, and letting her eyes focus on a distant memory. Logan watched her as she thought, intrigued by the emotions that played over her face unbeknownst to her.

"Maybe," He repeated with a smile.


	5. one bed short

SUNDAY AFTERNOON  
NORTHERN WASHINGTON

A few hours later they were pulling into the town of Littlerock, population one thousand. Most of the houses were old, but refurbished with scavenged materials, suggesting that the city had been repopulated after the Pulse. Despite that there was a certain charm to the highly colorful buildings tucked away in patches of forest, and the warmly dressed locals who eyed their car with interest. It wasn't the usual suspicion that Max was used to, but more of a general curiosity.

"Looks like a quiet place," Logan noted.

"You'd think a major human trafficking ring would get more notice," Max responded, looking out the window as the turned onto Main street. There was about a dozen small businesses, but the street was like a ghost town.

"What makes you think its human trafficking we're dealing with?" Logan asked in an amused fashion.

Max shrugged before answering. "No bodies, no police attention. If it was all about a grab and kill, more than likely it would have been someone working solo. Solos get sloppy. But this seems organized, which usually means there's a whole crew working behind the scenes."

"That's a lot of assumptions," Logan pointed out.

"I'm a multi-million dollar, military machine. You don't think that they added a strategy processor in there? If they're working logically chances are I'll figure out their game eventually," She responded, glaring at him slightly in an amused way. "I'm designed for it."

"Fair enough," Logan allowed. She was right though. She didn't say things flippantly. Manticore had molded her into the perfect soldier and sometimes she tried so hard to forget it, that he forgot too. "I suppose, on the bright side that means there's more of a chance that Pamela is alive."

"Hope you're right," Max sighed. They took another right and then they found themselves in a gravel-laden parking lot and Logan was killing the engine again. "This where we're staying?"

"One of the only B&Bs in town," Logan said with a shrug. He watched as Max inspected their surroundings and then her face went hard. "What?"

"You see any ramps around here?" She asked him. He looked and then cursed himself with a sigh. Normally he was so good about checking on these things but he was so excited about the lead that he had forgotten to. "I'll go ask about it at the front desk."

"I can get it," Logan said, grabbing for her seat belt as she shed it.

"Logan it'll take me five minutes. It'll take just as long for you to get up the steps." She hadn't meant to say it with her half smile, in a patronizing voice. It had just come out. She saw him almost flinch and her voice softened. "Be right back."

She sent him a look through the windshield as she crunched across the gravel and disappeared into the front of the building. Logan sat in the Aztec, and tried his hardest to keep the sourness out of his expression. Luckily she was back soon and slid into the seat beside him with virtually no sound.

"There's a motel a little out of town. Guy at reception said its all one floor," Max informed him. She was careful not to look at him, but she knew his jaw was popping as he started the engine and shifted the car into gear. "Just keep heading North."

"Should have checked," Logan bit out, mostly to himself.

"Don't worry about it," Max dismissed. "This place has rooms that are set back from the office. That might even be better for us if we're going to be doing surveillance."

"If you say so," Logan sighed. They drove for another fifteen minutes or so before they came upon a clearing that house a log cabin with a vacancy light flashing and a series of long trailer looking motel rooms. While the town's bed and breakfast had contained a certain North-West charm this motel simply looked haggard.

Logan didn't even say a word to Max as he started transferring out of the Aztec. She took the hint and slid out, to wait for him patiently. Once he was prepared they set off for the office. The made their way in, a bell dinging overhead as they did so. Once they were in an older woman came to the counter, a half eaten sandwich in her grasp.

"What can I do you for?" She asked.

"We're looking for two rooms," Logan said, catching Max's surprised look. "Or a double if you have one."

"Only got one room free," She said, with a shrug. "It being trucking season and all sometimes our rooms go quick."

"That's fine, we'll take it," Logan said with a smile. "Three nights for now, but we might stay longer."

"Why?" the woman asked, perplexed.

"Fishing," Max said, sliding her hands into her pockets. She remembered seeing a few decent sized rivers and creeks on their way and figured someone had to be using them for fishing.

"Off season," the lady noted, but then with a smile said, "but who am I to judge? It's fifty bucks a night, payment up front. We have limited laundry and maid service but we'll do what we can." Logan counted out the bills and put them on the counter, waiting for the woman to slide a book over so he could fill out their information. The whole time the woman was watching Max with an incredulous look on her face.

"Thanks," Logan said, waiting on the key. The woman stepped back and fetched it from under the counter, but her eyes didn't leave Max.

"Your friend a model?" she asked Logan, handing him the key.

"No," he sputtered, looking at Max in shock. The young woman' face was trained to neutral. "Why?"

"Looks familiar is all," she said, chewing on her sandwich again.

"I get that all the time," the girl called from across the room where she was wandering. "One of those faces." The woman nodded skeptically and then looked down at Logan, her eyebrows coming together. It seemed as if she was questioning just what the two of them were doing together.

"Thanks," Logan drawled, grabbing the keys with narrowed eyes. Together they left the office, Max sending the woman at reception an unforgiving look. They were in a companionable silence until they found their room, Logan unlocked it and they stepped inside.

The place was anything but luxurious. The decor was outdate, dusty and mismatched. It was big enough, with a small kitchenette against the far corner, a dining table that would fit the two of them, a single sized plush chair Then there was the bed. _The bed_. As in one. It was big enough, but it put them in a bit of an awkward situation. To put some of the awkwardness aside Logan wheeled over to the kitchenette and turned on the water. Nothing. He tweaked the handle again and all that they were met with was a groan of the pipes. Unable to contain her amusement, Max let out a bark of laughter.

"Travelling with you is always a treat," Max said, tongue in cheek.

"Oh I'm sorry, were you expecting a spa? Or perhaps we could sleep in the car? Hell, I already can't feel my legs so what does it matter if they fall asleep?" Logan demanded. Max took step back, shocked by the vehemence of his words. She must have struck a chord.

"Cool it Logan, I was just messing with you," She told him. "This place is fine."

"I'm glad it meets with your approval," He replied. He was still angry but the heat in his voice was beginning to dissipate. It helped that Max immediately jumped up to stride out to the car and began to unload everything they would need for the night. Once they were set up Max said she wanted to do some recon so she suited up and took off into the woods.

Sighing, and shaking his head at his own stupidity, he set up his mobile station, and unpacked his clothes. He went to work on some back logged cases, not seeing the sense in working on this one until Max was back. He might have underestimated just how uncomfortable he had made her because she didn't come back until after midnight, and he had plenty of time to think about how he had lost his temper. When she came through the door she stopped and stared at him, surprised he was still up and that he had already converted the small dining table into a surrogate of his one back home.

"There's still some left over pie if you want it," he said. The door closed with a loud click and he didn't have to look up to know that she was only walking into the room because of the promised pie. He smiled in spite of himself and tracked her with his ears as she rummaged through their stuff and pulled out the takeout container. "Find anything helpful?"

"Got the layout of the town and stopped for some dinner. Sorry, I didn't bring anything back," she said distractedly. He looked over to see her propped up on the bed, in her catsuit, and her legs spread out straight in front of her. The pie was on her lap, a plastic fork in her hand and the familiar book open in her hands. She was ignoring him.

"Right..." He breathed. He stretched his neck and noticed there was at least one crick in it. Suddenly the bed seemed really desirable but he didn't want to disturb the already distressed Max. "I'm kind of beat. What do we want to do about the bed?"

"I don't sleep," Max replied, still not looking at him.

"You have to sleep sometime," Logan disagreed.

"Not really," was her response. "I'll take the floor."

"We'll talk about this," Logan said, sighing. He grabbed everything he needed to get ready for the night and wheeled into the bathroom. Once he was showered and changed he came out only to see that Max had moved the bedside lamp to the floor. He wheeled over so he could look at her. She was still reading the book and had the extra blanket placed on the floor beneath her. She had changed while he was in the room and was now outfitted in a pair of athletic shorts and a white tank top. Logan stared at her long, smooth legs and gulped.

"Max?" He called.

"Take the bed," she told him, her dark eyes finally meeting his. They were narrowed, and hard but as they stared at each other they softened. "Like I said, I don't sleep. Shark DNA."

"Good night then," he said, wheeling back around so he could get into bed. He did so, taking his glasses off and setting them on the nightstand, above Max's head. He took one peak over the sit of the bed, at his friend, before closing his eyes and drifting off to sleep.

**Author Note: **  
**Sorry this chapter is so out of character compared to the rest. I haven't really had time to work on it, since school has been kicking my ass. I wanted people to know I was still alive though, and hadn't forgotten about this story. **  
**Next chapter Logan and Max will be in much better spirits and we'll meet some people from the town :) **


End file.
